P.I.S. Chapter 16: Reading Between the Lines

It didn't take Near very long to realize that the here and now was not truly here or now. Everything he touched felt real and solid. The food he ate tasted with full flavor. However, whatever this was wasn't reality; he figured this out very quickly. How long he had been here he did not know but he knew things that happened before they happened and not thanks to his powers. They had happened before. A reel of memories playing out all over again and he couldn't stop it. He was stuck in deja vu.

"Many things will be different," said the social worker beside him. She had a pretty heart shaped face and curly blond hair. Her wrist had on a silver watch dangling from it and her nails were painted with a clear coat. "But I promise you it will be for the best. You'll be able to grow more control on your gift. They'll take very good care of you. You'll make so many friends, friends just like you."

The thumbprint pad scanned her thumb and beeped with approval before the iron gates hydraulics hissed and began to spread apart for entrance. She squeezed his shoulder and walked him down the black tar driveway. Many people believed it to lead to an elaborate mansion, even rumors of a government laboratory. They were not far off. The two story manor house was broken into three sections with a large courtyard and sidewalks leading to each building. The light drizzle had run all the kids inside. They would be eating lunch about this time.

"This place is wonderful," the woman said, smiling down at him with pink lips, "I promise you, Nate."

"No," he whispered.

She inclined her head. "Is there a problem?"

"My name won't be Nate anymore. Not as soon as I'm enrolled. I'll be leaving that behind."

Her smile turned piteous. "Sometimes in order to look forward to the future..."

"...one must leave the past behind," he finished for her. She squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Let's hurry. You must be tired after the ordeal."

"Yes."

And she lead him up the stone steps of Wammy House. First he would meet Roger and eat alone in his room. Then tomorrow morning he would meet Mello and Matt. Then Linda and everyone else. He remembered exactly how each morning and afternoon and night would play out.

But why was he reliving it?

Sweat dripped from my nose and chin. The gray shirt and pants I was wearing showed sweat stains from my underarms and neck. My lungs filled with oxygen and released carbon dioxide on demand, each breath perfectly maneuvered so I would not be breathless. My pulse was steady and quick. I graduated from running through the forest and into some strange intricate design of obstacles that attempted to up-end me, to slow me down. I couldn't slow down.

"This is meaningless!" I shouted breathlessly, "We've been here for three days and you have me running circles!" Angry, I punched the porch railing. L was standing in front of me, fanning himself with a magazine and scratching one leg with the other.

"Light-kun," he said with very little interest, "You will learn proper combat in due time. For now, you need to learn how to escape."

I rubbed the sweat off my forehead before it dripped into my eyes. "I know how to run. It is cowardice to run away."

"Cowardice?" L dropped the magazine on a the swinging bench. "If someone comes at you, stronger, bigger than you, more skilled than you. Do you stick to fight? No. You get the hell out of there. You don't have to be the fastest. Just faster so you can fight again."

"But what if I have to stop him?" I asked, "What if I know he'll kill more people if I don't?"

L's eyes seemed to flash something strange before going back to their usual bland numbness and boredom. "There are two things you can do. You can run and come up with a plan to better prepare yourself for combat, or you foolishly go ahead and attack without sizing your opponent up. I call them heroic fools. There will be no fools-heroic or not-on my team."

He turned around, muttering something about pie and was about to step back into the house. I bit my lip, irate at his behavior, and grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face me. However, when I did, he put his hand inside his pants and pulled out a .22 and aimed it between my eyes. I froze and looked into the mouth of the gun. My legs felt like firm jelly, holding me up but completely useless in action other than standing. My heart dropped into my knees with the rest of my innards and my blood suddenly seemed to have paused.

"Bang," I heard him say. My eyes would not tear away from the gun, afraid to see the mini-explosion and see the bullet spiral into my head. "You're dead. Not a hero. Just a fool."

He lowered the gun and held it by his side. Now I could look him in the face.

"Y-You...you just pointed a gun at me..." My voice was shaky and unlike my own. I was surprised I wasn't trembling.

"Oh, don't worry. It's empty of its bullets." To emphasise, L pointed the gun away and to the floor and pulled the trigger. However, instead of hearing just a click, there was a bang and the porch floor suddenly had a hole in it with splintered wood and pieces of paint chipped off. I jumped and stumbled back. L blinked in surprise.

"What the hell was that?" Mello came barreling out, holding what looked like a swollen version of a machine gun. He looked back from L and me and saw no enemy.

"Intruders?" Matt came behind him, holding a small pistol. He looked puzzled and loitered in the door frame, not moving past Mello.

I looked at L, my lungs didn't seem to be working. He looked back to me. "Looks like I forgot one."

L's stunt that had almost killed me had also taught me the moral of the story. That this was no story. This was not a movie and death was very serious. I didn't question him again when he told me to run in the maze of obstacles. I obeyed and jumped over every spring-loaded hurdle that shot out of the grown under my feet. I dodged and twisted my body to avoid metallic disks shot out of the bushes. I jumped across gaps and inched my way across the thin ropes and narrow man-made ledges of chasms with soaring water below; I wasn't sure where the water was coming from but I knew it wasn't a rafting trip I should take.

And standing at the end of the maze of death-a nickname I heard Mello and Matt both use-was L, wearing a stop watch. The bushes here turned from natural and green to metallic. I dropped to my stomach as the leaves of these bushes exploded and shot across each other, inches above my head. I crawled on the dirt to the other side until I was in the safety zone. The bullet-like marbles stopped shooting and the maze was quiet, intimidatingly quiet.

L looked at the watch and smiled. "Not bad. Much better. Much better."

The strenuous aerobic workout I did from morning to night left me famished. At each meal I did very little talking and concentrated more on making my roaring stomach silent. My legs ached dully each night and was stiff each morning, but I was getting better at dealing with it. I had also lost a lot of weight. Not too much whereas I looked too skinny, but more agile and built like a runner. I was improving each day, and each night that I slept in Near's room, I was reminded of why I was pushing myself. Why we all were. We didn't just lose a comrade. We lost a friend.

'I wonder,' I said to myself as I worked the black and white Rubix cube that Near must have worked on thousands of times, 'Can he possibly use his powers to get out of whatever mess he's into? Or is Beyond too strong?'

"Hey."

I lifted myself off the mattress to see Matt in the doorway. "Hey," I answered back.

"L wants to see you. He's in his bedroom."

I nodded and Matt swiftly left. I had never been to L's bedroom before but had a general idea where to find it. The manor was big but did not have that many rooms. Just lots of space. The evening sunset highlighted the hallway in an eerie bluish glow. L's bedroom was on the first floor on the east side, the room closest to the kitchen, I noticed. Aside from the sound of violins and Chopin playing, it looked like a door to any other room.

It was opened before I could knock. L stood before me, slightly slouched and licking something off his fingers. "Ah, yes. I almost forgot." He walked back inside and I followed. His room was quite...bland. There was a mattress on the floor with a pillow and blanket and the hardwood floor was littered with empty plates and glasses. Shoved into the corner were several monitors and desktops and a nest of wires, all turned off; one computer was even lopsided and had been stripped of its innards. If it were not for the multi-million dollar property this room was built in, one would suspect L lived in poverty. I knew he had no decorative skills, but this was just ill-fitting.

"Have a seat," he said. I looked around for a chair and, seeing none, took a seat in front of him on the floor as he lowered himself on the mattress. The CD player continued to play but its volume was lowered so we could speak.

"It's time for the next step in your training," he said, "You can run, but as you said before, there are times when running won't help you. When flight is not an option, you must fight."

My lungs hitched. "Does this mean you're going to teach me combat?"

"You're going to learn how to defend yourself, but it's not going to be me. Mello will be waiting for you at nine in the morning in the courtyard. Your gi is on your bed."

"Thank you," I said, "Is that all?"

"Yes, go to bed now. You have a full day tomorrow."

I bowed and left and shut the door behind me.

L kept his eyes on the door where Light disappeared behind its doors. There was a ripple behind him and Mello materialized.

"Is this really such a good idea?" he asked.

"Do we have any other choice?"

"If the Company finds out about this-"

"The company doesn't need to know about Light."

Mello leaned down and turned off the music and stepped in front of his boss. "Is there a certain reason why I must be the one to do his training?"

"Light-kun must learn to use his abilities in life and death situations. It takes too long for him to read a thought and stop it before it happens if it is impulsive. You are the perfect person to show him the way to read impulsive behavior instantly."

Mello put his hands in his pockets. "L, there's something I need to ask."

"Yes Mello?"

"If Light can't read your thoughts, does that mean he can't read BB's either?"

"Hm." L licked the sugar cube he grabbed out of the glass bowl next to his bed. "It's very plausible. Our powers are nearly identical. However, there is one major difference between us. I'm just hoping that Light will figure that out before its too late."

"You should start practicing, too. You'll become rusty before your match with Beyond." Mello waved him goodbye and opened the door to leave.

"Mello," L called out, "I shouldn't have to tell you this but it is important that you not only hope for the best but expect the worse. He's not in a good position."

"I know." The blond shut the door behind him.

We only had two weeks left before the big day, so we had to hurry in our training. B had yet to tell us our destination and I wasn't sure how we were going to get the message, but I did notice that with two weeks left, everyone was cracking down on their training. L always returned shirtless and brimming with sweat. I noticed, too, that his physique was also changing, becoming more muscular, which he hid very well underneath his baggy clothes. Matt, whose talent was in robotics and computers, often brought his gadgets out and upgraded them. One project he had he kept in his room, something he called his "top secret" whenever we asked about it.

When I met with Mello in the morning, he was pleased to know that I had previous training in karate back in grade school so I only needed to brush up on my positions and katas. Lucky for me, I quickly fell back into my old routine. After a few hours, Mello faced me and bowed. From the way his body was, it was easy to see that he was the most physically in shape, and the most active. His arms had always looked slender but while he was fighting, he was very intimidating with quick and powerful punches. He was great at dodging, as every punch I threw was blocked or evaded. And I was already beat up from Mello's counter attacks.

"Dammit," I muttered. If I didn't improve soon I was going to get my ass kicked by whomever and probably not live through it. I was starting to rethink my involvement in this whole thing. Could I really risk losing my life and leaving my family behind?

"This is enough for tonight," Mello said, throwing a white towel my way.

"No," I said, panting for breath, "I'm not getting better and I won't be a match for Beyond Birthday in two weeks."

Mello crossed his arms. "You're not paying attention to me. You're not reading me."

"I'm trying to read your movements. You're too fast for me."

"Tch." He narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that your ability was to read movement. How silly of me." I looked at him, furrowing my brow. "Every physical action is made by a message from the brain to the limb to carry out the deed." He clenched his fist. "When I want to punch, my mind tells my body to do what it needs to. Isn't that your power? To read minds?"

It was then his fist cracked me in the cheek. Spit flew from my mouth and I stumbled but he came after me.

"Listen to my thoughts, Light!" he shouted as his fist dug deep into my gut. Bile rose in my throat.

A kick to my side.

"What am I going to do next!"

"I don't know!" I yelled. I fought back and threw a punch but he grabbed my wrist and twisted behind my back.

"Figure it out then!" He pushed me away from him. I kept my stance and we stared down.

"It takes only milliseconds for the brain to discharge a message to the arms and legs and other parts of the body," Mello said. "You're not training to only fight. You're training and controlling your ability. Don't just read my thoughts. Read my intuition. Read my impulses. Every movement I have is created by a message from my mind! Read my goddamn mind!"

"That's impossible! The signals from your brain on impulse are too quick for me to read!"

"Then figure it out or you're going to die!"

He charged and we continued our bloody spar.

(A/N): I feel so bad because I forgot to upload.